Lifetimes seldom fill a hundred years

I live far off in the wild
Where moss and woods
Are thick and plants perfumed
I can see mountains rain or shine
And never hear market noise
I light a few leaves in my stove to heat tea
To patch my robe I cut off a cloud
Lifetimes seldom fill a hundred years
Why suffer for profit and fame?

~ Stonehouse

This entry was written by Rae , posted on Thursday March 19 2009 at 11:03 am , filed under poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink . Post a comment below or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

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